


Clan McDonald.

by springburn



Series: The Thick of It mini-fics [46]
Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Brotherhood, F/M, Feels, Friendship, Love, Marriage, Parenthood, Sisterhood, Some Explicit Language, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-09 14:55:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7806250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springburn/pseuds/springburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jamie is lying in bed thinking about his life, and the past, his relationships and his luck........</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clan McDonald.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rubywallace25](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubywallace25/gifts).



> This was a great prompt from @rubywallace25. 
> 
> I thank her sincerely.......and dedicate the story to her.
> 
> "Could you do a fic about Jamie & Ellie as I'd love to know more about them."
> 
> I'm exploring a little of Jamie's relationships with those around him, both now and in the past, his hopes and fears, and dreams of the past and future.
> 
> This story fits into the 'married with kids au' series.

CLAN McDONALD. 

 

Jamie McDonald was not a religious man. 

Not any more. 

At one time, it was his whole life. The seminary, training for the priesthood, but then he saw the corruption, the hypocrisy, and it was somehow tainted for him, for good. 

True he still believed in faith per se. Someone watching over him, a presence for good in the world. It was an ingrained fundamental doctrine.  
Since childhood. 

He and Malcolm! 

Sunday School. Confirmation Classes. 

Bunking off. 

Knock down Ginger. 

Catapults. Cowboys and Indians. Goodies and baddies. 

Grubby vests and short trousers, with an elastic snake belt. Scabby knees. Scuffed shoes. 

Always, he'd looked up to him. The gangly string bean, a few years his senior. Admired him. Followed his lead. 

Mates. 

Confidantes. 

Brothers. 

Then their paths diverged. 

For several years, until Jamie's disillusionment with The Church bought him back into the Tucker circle, and down the road to tabloid journalism. 

Malcolm had become his mentor, his spirit guide. His professor. His friend. 

At Number Ten they were The Caledonian Mafia. None could withstand them. A formidable tour de force.

For a while. 

He was the Rottweiler, snarling and biting, straining at the leash, which was firmly held in check by the wily terrier Malcolm Tucker. Or was it the other way round? 

Then as soon as it began, it was over. 

More than thirty years just wiped away. Man and boy. 

His shame at Malcolm's hurt expression had been deeper than anything he'd ever felt in his life. 

"Pint pot Judas!" He'd called him, and he fucking meant it. 

Betrayal. He never meant the leak to do that much damage. 

To Jamie the pain of separation was like a divorce. 

Because he loved the man. 

Simple as that. 

They'd always been close....not in the biblical sense, of course. It wasn't like that.  
Malcolm was as straight as the proverbial die, possibly straighter. 

Could you say straighter? More straight? Oh, who gives a fuck!

So, for that matter was McDonald himself, although at times, he had briefly wondered if he might possibly bat for both sides.....but then, well.....he knew it wasn't the case.  
Certain. 

It was just the unique bond they shared. 

oOo

His wife stirred beside him, humming slightly with drowsy contentment, nuzzling closer to his hip. He placed a warm arm around her and tugged her close.  
What a lucky fucker he was! 

Sam Cassidy. 

Mrs Samantha Tucker now. 

It was all down to her. 

Everything wonderful in his life, he now had. Down to her.......and Malcolm. 

There was a time when he'd carried a torch in that particular direction. 

Not that he would ever have done anything. But, fuck it all! He had eyes in his head!  
There was something about Sam.  
She wasn't a leggy, centrefold type, not stunningly catwalk model gorgeous.  
But then who the fuck was? 

Only those who were leggy, stunningly beautiful catwalk models! 

She was, however, clever, witty, thoroughly attractive inside and out. Honest, loyal and.......well......bloody marvellous!  
He admired from afar.  
Mind you, she never so much as glanced his way.  
It was very soon abundantly clear to him that she was Malcolm's. Heart and soul. 

Malcolm didn't yet know it, but she was. Always. Right from the word go! 

Of course, Jamie soon realised the truth, saw how things stood.....and you couldn't miss it really......couldn't have been clearer had it been been written in neon letters ten feet high!  
Saw the way she looked at his friend from under her eyelashes. Witnessed her place her hand on his sleeve, squeezing his arm. Observed her caring for him, fetching and carrying for him, looking out for him, watching his back, without ever once saying a single word, he knew he must never go there.  
Where angels fear to tread. 

She was a diamond. 

A one man woman. 

In love. Devoted........to Malcolm. 

Not him. Never him. 

So he resigned himself. A spare part. Quite often, in the office, clearly a gooseberry.  
He mused to himself at times whether Malcolm was aware of it and chose to ignore, or whether he was just plain thick.  
Turned out, where matters of the heart were concerned, he actually was as dense as molasses. 

Daft prick! 

He read in the press of their marriage. Saw the picture in the article. 

Fuck his pathetic hide, if he hadn't actually shed tears.  
Because his former friend looked so fucking happy. 

Alive. For the first time in years. 

It was there, in his eyes. 

Totally smitten. Confused as a rabbit in the headlights as to why. Why did she love him?  
He hadn't a clue. Couldn't comprehend it. Just knew he wanted it. So desperately. 

Jamie was more than glad for him. Ecstatic. 

Christ! But he deserved it. He'd been through the shit and no mistake.

Jamie had followed the whole thing; Goolding, the Enquiry into the Enquiry, the lies, the criminal investigation, the subsequent trial, the whole horrific fucking circus, all played out via the media.  
The glare of publicity.  
A couple of times he'd almost picked up the phone. 

Almost. 

Shit! But he was such a fucking coward. Nothing more than a massive twat. A mincing fucking cunt. 

With no balls. 

Couldn't bring himself to call his best and dearest friend, and say......

'Hey! It's me......I'm sorry. I'm here for you!" 

He cried then too. 

Angry with himself. 

Hurting. The loss of the friendship a deep physical pain.

Too sodding late now. 

Far too much time had gone by, and the longer the silence between them continued, the more difficult, uncomfortable and pathetically grovelling, contacting him would be. 

What a sap! 

So, when it was HIS phone that rang, he was not only surprised, he was elated. Humbled. Grateful. 

And it was all down to Sam. 

Wonderful Sam. 

"Phone Jamie, Malc. Make up with him. You should. You know you both think the world of each other!"

And he did. 

More of a man than Jamie would ever be. 

Because, holy shit! Malcolm was a dad. 

Something he'd never thought to be in his wildest of dreams, and the person he most wanted to share the news with had been his best bud, Jamie McDonald. 

Euphoric.

They'd spoken for over an hour. 

Malcolm blubbed. Jamie blubbed. 

For fucks sake! 

"Would he stand Godfather to the baby?" 

"Of course he fucking would! He'd be honoured." 

He blubbed again. 

oOo

So it began. 

Series Two. Episode one. 

The Caledonian Mafia. Part Deux. 

Return of the Fucking Jedi. 

Mr James McDonald couldn't be happier. Or prouder. 

He stepped up to the plate. 

Proved himself to his elder, many times since, and wasn't that what he always felt he needed to do where Malc was concerned?  
Seek and win his approval?  
Show him just how loyal and faithful he could be? 

How staunch a friend? A brother?

He wasn't sure how Malcolm saw him. An errant child to be bought back to the fold? A younger sibling who'd transgressed but should be given another chance? A prodigal son perhaps? Kill the fatted calf!  
Or maybe a pet dog perhaps, desperate to please his master. 

In truth, it was none of those things. 

Malcolm had been sore, it was true. But he'd forgiven almost as soon as the deed was done. It was pride alone that kept him from reconciliation. Both of them as bad as each other. 

Jamie was family. 

That hadn't changed. 

It just needed Sam to give a gentle nudge. 

oOo

From somewhere in the other room, Jamie could hear strains of 'Dora the Explorer'. A piping voice singing along.  
Two voices in fact.

Grace was staying over. A sleepover.

What the fuck was that all about? They never had sleepovers when he was a wee lad! 

The two girls like peas in a pod. 

Grace Tucker was slightly younger, but only by a month.  
Jesus, but she scared him shitless! When she regarded him critically with those piercing blue eyes, identical to her father's. It was like she was a forty-five year old woman trapped in a tiny body!  
So fucking clever! Sharp as a rapier. Articulate way beyond her three years.  
His own Jess was bright, but Grace? Holy moly! 

He smiled to himself. 

His Jess. His little princess. 

She was his delight. His chest puffed with pride when he first held her, bawling and sticky, in his arms. 

Turning his head slightly, he beheld the other object of his desires. 

His wife. Life partner. The missus. The old 'trouble and strife'! 

She was still dozing. Mouth open slightly, a small twitch now and then as she dreamed. 

He had Sam to thank for her too. 

Ellie. 

First time he'd set eyes on her was at his godson's christening. 

He likened it to being hit over the head with a cricket bat. 

Not that he'd ever been hit over the head with a cricket bat, but he could imagine it to be a very similar experience to what he felt on that occasion, and on various subsequent occasions. 

Not to put too finer point on it, she was fucking amazing. 

An old friend of Sam's from uni. 

The two women were as close and as sisterly as Malc and Jamie were 'non blood' siblings.

Trouble was, she was fucking gorgeous.

Way out of his league. 

No way she was going to even give him the time of day. 

He began to notice that whenever he was invited to the Tucker house, and that was quite often.....Ellie would frequently be there too. 

Oh, fuck! 

He could see where this was going. 

The buggers were attempting a bit of matchmaking! Fucking Match.com! 

Like 'Compare the Market' but with human beings instead of car insurance! 

For fucks sake! 

Never gonna happen in a million years. 

Against all the odds it did happen.

It changed after their day at the park, en famille, the young Tucker in the buggy, the day they'd met Ollie and the posh bitch.  
Made a total prat of himself.  
She'd laughed heartily with him......not at him. 

On the spur, he bit the bullet. Asked her out. 

She'd said yes. 

The rest, as they say, was fucking history! 

oOo

She stirred. Opening her eyes. 

A smile which always made his stomach turn somersaults.

"Mornin' beautiful!" He whispered. 

She yawned and stretched. 

"The girls are quiet!" She observed lazily, listening for a few seconds. "I hope they're not up to mischief." 

"I heard 'Dora', think they've got the telly on." He replied. "Time for a cuddle then?" 

"Mmmm!" Her face was close to his. "I've got morning breath!" She murmured. 

"Who fucking cares! If you get up, they'll hear you're about and they'll come charging in here! We'll be jumped on.....by the both of them!" He moaned. "Then all pretence to a snuggle will go out of the bloody window!" 

"Okay. I'll hack it if you will!" She giggled, as he wrapped her in a tight embrace. 

If he was very honest, Jamie was a little envious of the relationship Malcolm had with Sam.  
It was the kind of partnership that was very rare indeed.  
He didn't think he'd ever seen two people more completely in tune with each other than those two.  
Solid as a rock. 

Malcolm was a far more demonstrative man than Jamie. He loved totally. There were no half measures. Never held back.  
Sam completed him. Simple as that. 

Simpatico. 

Jamie didn't quite have that. He was working on it and it was pretty damn close. 

Trying to make love as quietly as possible. 

Fucking joke. 

"Is this a good time?" He'd asked, as his kisses grew more tender.

"Darling, any time is a good time!" Her smile so meltingly beautiful, it always reduced him to a puddle of goo. 

"Ye know what I mean!" He responded, trying to keep voice normal, and not desperate, because she was touching him now, and God help him he was so ready! 

"Yes!" She whispered hotly, into the shell of his ear. " It's a very good time! The best in fact!" 

He groaned with need. Moving over her, feeling that powerful urge, that primeval masculine instinct of possession, of control, of ownership. 

"Fuck!" He murmured. "Let's do it then, let's make a baby!" 

They'd been trying for a little while now. 

Hadn't happened.

Another instance where he differed fundamentally from his best friend. Malcolm only had to blow his nose and Sam was up the duff.  
Fuck, she barely dared use the same toilet seat! 

For Jamie it took a bit longer. 

They'd had tests. It wasn't Ellie. She was firing on all cylinders. It was him.  
Him and his inadequate shrivelled ball bag, and his fucking sperm on crutches. 

So he'd cut out the bevvies. Started eating more sensibly.....no more fucking deep fried Mars bars! Went to the gym. 

When Ellie found she was expecting Jess, he thought his heart would explode. 

Fucking blubbed again! They both did. 

Ecstatic. 

Now, here they were again. 

It would be easier this time. 

He was sure. Had to be. Just don't get stressed about it. 

oOo

Ellie McDonald looked out of the window in Sam's kitchen. 

The two women side by side, each cradling a coffee. 

Watching their men. 

Playing a rough and tumble game of football. 

Two young boys......strong and fit, yelling and whooping, Jamie senior.....who thought he was Pele.....Malcolm in goal........Malcolm was always in goal. Even when they were kids, jumpers for goalposts, playing on the waste ground near their home.......he always fucking hated football. 

Jamie had never, _could_ never, understand it. How could ANYBODY not like footy?

Bought up in the heartland of The Beautiful Game in Scotland. Glasgow. 

Never mind the poncy titwank Heart o' Midlothian......cunts! 

Looked down their noses at the likes of him.  
At a pinch he could stomach Aberdeen, but only cos his mam's family came from there, and Alex Ferguson was worshipped in their house like a God. 

Celtic and Rangers.....it was a fucking religion. Jamie McDonald was proud to say he'd beaten the crap out of more Rangers supporters than he cared to remember as a youngster.  
Wankers! 

Much to Malcolm's chagrin both his boys adored a kick about. Especially when Uncle Jamie came round. 

Weird! Something wrong there in the gene pool. 

Malcolm thanked his lucky stars there was an uncle Jamie! Let him off the hook. All he had to do was stand in the little goal mouth, legs akimbo, arms outstretched and do a bit of a Bruce Grobbelaar shimmy every so often, to look like he meant it and was enjoying himself! 

"Come on Malc! Put some effort in for the love of fuck!" 

Young James Tucker successfully nutmegged his father and peeled away, arms aloft, crying 'yyyeeesss' as if he'd just scored the winner in the League Cup final at Celtic Park. 

Both women winced together as one, as the expletive reached their ears. 

"How is it that all four of our children don't swear like sailors on shore leave?" Sam mused. 

Ellie was silent. 

Sam turned to her, leaning forward slightly to look into her face. 

"Ellie? You okay?" 

"Don't say anything to Malc yet Sam......but I think I might be pregnant." 

Sam's eyes widened. The suddenness of the revelation. Barely suppressed emotion which had clearly been bubbling under for some time, desperate to be voiced. She knew how much this meant to her friend. 

"Oh my God!" Instantly welling up, giving a tight, warm and very genuine hug. "Are you sure?" 

"Well, I've missed my second period......did a test when I missed the first......it was positive.....but......I dunno......I just had to hold back somehow.....y'know?" 

Sam didn't relinquish her hold.

"Of course I know hun. And you're right to be cautious. You've not told Jamie?" 

Ellie shook her head. Suddenly tearful. 

"He wants it so much Sam. He was devastated when they said it was down to him last time. Like he was some kind of bloody failure or something. Not a real man. Took him ages to get over it." 

Sam reached up and brushed away the tear from her friend's face. 

"I know. He talked to Malcolm about it. Malc felt so bad. And so helpless." 

"I'm scared to tell him till I'm further on. In case it goes pear shaped. Don't wanna get his hopes up." 

Outside, the football game had turned into a pile up.....legs and arms, squeals and shouting  
......tickling and play fighting. 

"Besides....." She added, with a wicked wink. "If he doesn't know, he still thinks we're trying.....so more nooky for me, he's keen as mustard!" 

Sam laughed out loud. 

"Naughty minx!" 

A sudden squall of crying came from the garden......Malcolm rushing indoors, carrying his second son, his nose bleeding copiously. 

"Oh lord! Now what?" 

Sam went to minister to the wounded. 

"Oh dear! What happened?" Totally unfazed, calm and serene.....grabbing a wodge of tissue. 

Malcolm, looking both horror stricken and contrite. His son wailing in his arms. 

"He caught a shoe in the face......it was an accident......." 

"Come here......Robbie.....hush now! It's alright. You're going to live! It's just a nose bleed." 

Taking her middle child into her arms. Hugging him. Sitting the boy on the kitchen counter, wiping away the excess, she pinched the bridge of his nose with her thumb and forefinger. 

"Keep your head forward, not back. It's okay! It's not broken. It's just a knock." She turned to her husband, who hovered behind, pale and shocked. 

"Malcolm! For goodness sake.....he'll be fine. Kids hurt themselves. It's not child abuse. Go and get yourself a glass of water! I don't want to be playing nurse to you too!" 

Jamie and his young namesake entered through the patio door, the lad with both arms around his Godfather's neck, both looking sheepish. 

"Is he alright?" Four eyes......looking terribly guilty. 

"He's fine! He's a brave soldier. Aren't you Robbie?" The bleeding ceased and Sam relaxed her grip. 

"Jamie fetch me a damp flannel, so I can clean him up. I think perhaps a board game or some colouring for half an hour might be the way to go! Where are the girls? It's nearly time to eat." 

"I'll get them." Ellie said. "They are in Grace's bedroom, building a Lego house." 

oOo

Full of delicious Sunday lunch. 

Samantha Tucker's roast beef and Yorkshire pud. 

Stuffed. 

Kids in bed. 

Grace and Jess in the bed together. 

Fair head and dark, side by side. 

Robbie, bloodied but unbowed, thumb in, brown bear under one arm, and his faithful blanket. 

Young Jamie. In Doctor Who pyjamas, finally asleep, not wanting to give in, afraid of missing out on something the adults were doing. 

In the garden. A warm and balmy evening. Seated round the table. A couple of lighted candles. 

Bottle of vino. 

Fucking heaven. 

Malcolm lifted his glass.

"Friends!" He said, holding it aloft. 

The others followed his lead. 

"And to Sam......" Jamie echoed. "For a fucking fantastic dinner! Thanks Sam!" 

"Hang on! I mixed the batter for those, frankly, Michelin class yorkies......." Malcolm interjected.  
"Don't I deserve a mention?" 

"Yeah, but you also smashed your own son in the face, so that cancels it out!" Jamie replied. 

"Shut up, you bastard! That was a fucking accident!" Malcolm scowled. 

"Quiet both of you......! Thank you Jamie! I'll take the compliment! And I'll raise a toast myself." 

Sam held her wine in the air. 

"To the four of us. To friendship, to love, and to the future!" She winked at Ellie surreptitiously, and her friend gave a warm smile. 

It was Jamie however, who had the last word. 

"A. Fucking. Men." 

Fin.


End file.
